Scattered Amongst the Weeds
by walking primrose
Summary: Follow the apocalyptic adventures of Olivia Dawson, a doctor from Atlanta, as she fights the world that has let her as well as others down. Contains violence. All reviews are welcome and appreciated. Complete rewrite.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own or hold any rights regarding The Walking Dead including the storyline or characters; living or dead. I do not take any credit for this. I have no desire to make a profit from this, and am only doing this as a hobby. I do however take credit for my own OC Olivia Dawson, as well as the OC characters that will be appearing in this. _

_This is a complete rewrite._

_Warning: Strong language._

* * *

**Goodwill Memorial Hospital, Atlanta**

_Olivia_  
**  
**

If someone was to tell you that today was the last day of humanity, how would you spend it? Would you visit your family, tell them that you love them and face the end together? Would you drink until you passed out only to wake a few hours later to a new world? Or would you just sit and wait for the time to pass?

For Olivia Dawson, if someone told her that today would be the last day of humanity as she knew it, she would most definitely not be in work. A quarter of the way through a twelve hour shift, Olivia found herself sitting in the small corner of the staff room with her head in her hands and taking deep breaths. The morning went as well as it could be, with the occasional drunk from the previous night flirting with her. So far, she only had to deal with people who had enjoyed one too many beers and decided that DIY would be the best thing to do in their state. For Olivia, it was the worst thing that could have happened.

She stayed where she was for a few moments, relishing in the peace and quiet that the staff room brought. The spare few minutes she would have to herself during her shift couldn't come quick enough, and even though she loved her job, there were times when she had had enough.

The hot Georgian sun was wreaking havoc for its inhabitants and with the windows open, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the rooms allowing some comfort to those who were feeling the heat. Olivia, having grown up in the UK, had noticed the contrast between the weather she was experiencing in Georgia to the weather she usually had in England. It had been nice having warmer weather than that in the UK but some days, she could do without the temperatures that made her eyes fly open in shock.

The door to the staff room opened and Lisa, a colleague of Olivia's, walked in and slumped into the chair. She eyed Olivia, shaking her head and chuckling lightly.

"Is it home time, yet?" Olivia asked, tiredly.

"Afraid not," Lisa answered, getting comfy on the couch and resting her eyes. "If it was, I wouldn't be here."

"Do you think anyone would notice if I went home?" Olivia giggled.

"Um… you bet! They have eyes everywhere; they'd easily track you down and force you back here!" Lisa said, her eyes still closed. "I wish we could be invisible just for five minutes!"

"I would love it if you invented a machine that could do that!"

"Down here for dancing," Lisa replied, giggling. "So, how are you? I haven't gotten a chance to see you since last night."

Olivia rubbed her brow and leant back against the wall. She heard small cracks in her back as she positioned herself more comfortably. She looked over towards Lisa who had focused her attention onto her.

"I've been better," Olivia whispered.

"Why? What's happened?"

"Just Nick… we had a huge argument when I got home last night."

Lisa swung her legs round and placed her feet onto the floor. "Why?"

"He didn't like the fact that I had stayed out as long as I did," Olivia shrugged and pulled a face. "It's complicated at the minute."

"You were out half an hour longer than you said you'd be. And that was because of the taxi! I don't see why he would have a problem with that!"

"It's Nick, isn't it? He has a problem if his toast is burnt."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Life's too short. We see how short it is every day. He needs to realise that you need time to just be yourself and let go of all the stress of work. You work hard, Olivia, and it shows but you deserve to put work on the back seat and enjoy your life."

Ever since Lisa had first met Olivia when the latter had arrived on her first day at Goodwill Memorial Hospital four years ago, the two of them had hit it off well. The two of them had become close quite quickly and soon became the best of friends. Lisa's relationship with Nick, however, had not been the best of introductions for either of them and for Olivia; they had always put their problems to one side to ensure that Olivia's happiness was priority. But like every problem, as time goes on, the cracks began to show and the two of them had decided that it was best if they stayed away from one another.

Lisa was always the shoulder for Olivia to cry on, the ear for her problems, and even though she had no desire of liking Nick, Olivia was still her best friend.

"I just feel that he expects me to behave the way he thinks I should. But I can't do that. My job prevents me from being normal outside of work. I just wish he would understand. We've been together for ten years. He saw me graduate from medical school, we moved over here for his job, and now he tells me that he's unhappy with the way I am. With the person I'm becoming."

"Ten years is a long time to be with someone, Liv. You love Nick, and I can see that. But maybe it's time to think about what you want from life. Do you see yourself with Nick in five years' time?" Lisa asked, putting her blonde hair back into a neat ponytail.

"I…" Olivia mumbled. "I'd like to think so. He's the only man that I've ever known."

"I just want you to be happy, and he doesn't make you happy. Life is going to run away from you if you don't take a stand and tell him how you feel."

The beeper sounded and the two of them pulled it from their waistband. On the screen, the words: _Patient invlvd in shooting. 5 mins. _came up and both women stood from their positions. Opening the door to the staff room, Lisa turned towards Olivia.

"I'm serious, Olivia. Life doesn't sit by and wait until you make a decision. Tell him how you feel before it's too late and you wake up one day and realise that you made a mistake."

Olivia nodded, biting her lip. Even though she loved Nick, she felt that recently they were just living together. There was no romance in the relationship anymore and she had often asked herself if she just loved Nick rather than still being in love with him. And every time, she would find that she couldn't answer that simple question. It was time to throw all her money into the middle of the table and play with the cards in her hand. There was always a winner and a loser, and she just hoped that both of them had winning hands.

* * *

**Somewhere in Atlanta**

_Rick and Shane_

Five minutes away, in an ambulance racing through the streets of Atlanta, was Rick Grimes whose life, with every fleeting minute, was fading away. Shane Walsh looked over at his friend who was lying motionless upon the gurney with blood pumping from the bullet wound to his abdomen and felt a surge of guilt.

It had been too quick. He couldn't remember everything that happened. He could remember sitting in the vehicle with Rick as his colleague was talking about the problems he was having at home with Lori. Then the call came through about a speeding vehicle just as the car passed them at a frightening speed and he could remember Rick glancing at him before pulling off as he answered the call from dispatch.

There was gun fire, and he could remember the onslaught of bullets as the two parties exchanged their frustration. And just when they thought they had sorted out the problem, there was a moment when time slowed. And in that slow motion, he watched as one of the gunman crawled out of the car, grabbed the gun that had fallen out of his hand, aimed it towards Rick who was walking back towards Shane and pulled the trigger. He could have stopped it. He could have aimed the gun at the man and shot him dead, preventing Rick from being shot. But he didn't. He had watched the man shoot Rick before he did anything.

Before he had taken it into his own hands and shot the man dead. But it was too late. It had to be too late for him to do anything. He was going to wait, wait until Rick had taken his last breath before he called for help. It had been a long time coming when he was given a chance like this, but before he could sit upon the ground and wait until the life within Rick seeped away, he was surrounded by police cars that had heard the same dispatch and had changed direction.

And soon there was an ambulance ambling towards them; pushing an unconscious Rick into the back of it; asking him if he was riding with them; being pointed to the seat where he was now seated; and watching as the paramedic worked on Rick. It had all happened too quick.

As he watched Rick fight with the dark curtain of death, Shane hoped with every single fibre in his being that the man he had once considered a friend would give up his battle and fade away from his life forever.

* * *

**The Leaning Tower of Pizza**

_Glenn_

Glenn hated his life. From the moment he opened his eyes of a morning to the moment he slipped into bed after a long night of delivering pizzas,he hated every single moment of his life. Throughout the years, he had often wondered where it all went wrong for him. It seemed he had become stuck in a rut, and he couldn't seem to dig himself out of it and do something with his life.

He had a degree in Physics, that he had hoped he could use as soon as he had left education. But times were tough and his family needed him to get a job in order to keep a roof over their heads. He would work for 'The Leaning Tower of Pizza' until he had found the perfect job that would allow him to provide more for his family, but with times changing and society becoming harder for everyone, that time never came for him. Three years later, he was still in the dead end job that made him question whether life was really worth it.

He had worked every day for the last three years delivering pizzas to people who didn't appreciate him, and as much as he hated it, his parents were grateful.

And he believed today would be no different. Today, he presumed, would just be like any other day. He would clock into work, receive an earful from his boss and deliver pizzas until the early hours of the morning. It was a never ending cycle for him.

As he walked into work, he expected to be called into the store room for a chat with his boss just like any other day, but today was different. The shop was quiet. Martin, the new guy, was stood at the counter picking at his nails when Glenn had entered the shop. Martin looked up, nodded and continued giving his nails a makeover.

"Where's Dave?" Glenn asked.

Martin shrugged. "Dunno."

"What about Ed?"

Martin pointed to the store room. "He's in the back. Be careful though. He's not in a good mood."

Glenn snorted. "When is he ever in a good mood?"

Martin smirked, and shrugged. "True, man."

Glenn made his way towards the machine on the wall and signed in quickly. Martin busied himself with sorting out the online orders and Glenn put the lunch time orders that Martin had made into his pizza bag. Once Martin had finished, Glenn made a start to leave.

"It's quiet today, isn't it?" Glenn asked as he peeped through the window of the pizza shop. The street was empty as far as he could see, and it was too quiet for his liking. He hadn't noticed how quiet it had been on his way to work; his mind must have been elsewhere.

"I've not seen anyone today other than you and Ed. It must be a public holiday or something."

"I doubt it," Glenn answered.

The door to the store room opened then and Ed walked out, on the phone. Glenn turned round and caught his eye. Ed made a motion for Glenn to wait until he had come off the phone. Glenn could hear him talking but couldn't make out any words the assistant manager was saying as his attention was on the empty street outside. The last person he had seen had been his grandmother who had seen him off to work, and even then it had been a fleeting moment.

Ed, who was staring at the phone in his hand with a grimace, had made his way towards him. "I need to go. The wife is being a diva again, ranting and raving about her mother. Like I need another problem in my life… so I trust you and Martin to look after the shop today. Dave should be in, if he decided to phone us but if not then it's just you two, I'm afraid."

"What?! There is no way-" Glenn started to object but was cut off.

"Do you want this job, Glenn? If you do, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you. OK?" Ed exclaimed bitterly.

"Fine. Do what you have to do," Glenn said, picking up the pizza bag and making his way outside. He heard Ed walk towards his car as he attached the bag to the back of the bike. He couldn't be dealing with this. He had no energy as it was, and arguing with Ed would just be the cherry on top. He didn't like Ed, never had done ever since Dave had employed him. He thought he was in charge all of the time which angered Glenn to no end.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise coming from the alleyway next to the pizza shop that had caught Ed's attention. Glenn had heard it too but had chosen to ignore it in the hopes of getting away from Ed as quick as he could. If he had to stay in Ed's presence for one more minute, he would literally scream.

"Did you hear that?"

Ed's voice entered his ears but he chose to ignore it. When Ed asked him again, he turned to the older man. Ed had made his way to the entrance of the alleyway and was looking down where the bins were.

"I'm sure the noise came from over there," Ed pointed to where the bins were and Glenn found himself making his way over to him. He couldn't see anything suspicious from where he was. It was probably a stray dog looking for a meal. There had been a problem with stray animals tempting their luck with the bins recently but like everything else, it hadn't been sorted out.

"I can't see anything."

"Well I heard something. I'm not hearing things!"

"I didn't say you were!" Glenn exclaimed. "I'm going, I have work to do."

Just as Glenn turned to leave, the noise could be heard again. This time it was louder and much more distinct. The door to the shop opened and Martin came out, intrigued.

"What's up?" Martin asked.

"There was a noise, like a growl coming from the alley."

"Probably a stray animal looking for food," Martin said. He walked past Ed and Glenn and made his way into the alleyway. He looked around at the bags of rubbish, waiting to see if he could hear anything.

Glenn and Ed remained where they stood, their eyes focused on Martin as he walked further down the alleyway.

"I can't see anything down here, guys. Must have ran off."

"We would have seen it though!" Ed said. "It must still be th-"

But before he could finish his sentence, the stumbling figure of their boss came out from behind the bins behind the young boy and plunged his teeth into the neck of Martin. The boy screamed loudly at the pain as Dave tore through his neck like a rabid animal. Glenn and Ed looked on with shocked expressions on their faces for a few minutes. As much as they wanted to tear their eyes away from the scene of a dying boy, they couldn't seem to make themselves run for their lives.

"Shit…" The both of them whispered.

Glenn pulled on Ed's arm. "We need to go. Now. We need to call the police."

As Glenn pushed Ed into the passenger seat of the car, the young Korean didn't realise that the life as he had known it was over. He was no longer working in a dead end job with little to no wages, but as time would go by, he would have given anything to have that measly job back.

* * *

**On The Outskirts of Atlanta**

_Daryl and Merle_

Daryl was going to kill Merle. There had been many times in the thirty-four years that he had been alive in which he had wanted to kill Merle for being an utter idiot when it came to his behaviour but none more so than right this minute. Daryl was usually a quiet person compared to the aggressive and belligerent manner of his older brother, but this was the last straw. He had had enough. If his brother wasn't getting into trouble at bars, he was getting involved with the wrong women whose men would usually take vengeance against Merle.

Merle liked a drink, just like many others did. But Merle would often take it to a whole new level. He was a flirt, even he couldn't deny that he liked the attention of women. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase when it came to women, and most of the time, they were putty in his hands. Women loved attention, Merle loved women. A bit too much if Daryl had anything to say about it.

Daryl loved his brother but he also hated him. The fact that Merle, at the age of forty, couldn't behave himself after having a few drinks had started to get boring to Daryl. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life busting Merle out of jail for causing a disturbance, for beating a man to a pulp, or flirting with women who were already in relationships. He knew that he had to tell Merle that enough was enough but Merle was someone you couldn't disagree with. Because if you did, Daryl could bet that Merle's fist would make contact with his face.

Merle didn't like being told what to do. He had spent the last forty years of his life doing exactly what Merle wanted when Merle wanted to do it. He wasn't going to listen to what anyone had to say whether it be his own brother.

As the phone call from the police station had come through, Daryl had just spent most of the day underneath a car. The weather was hot and humid. The last thing he needed was to bust Merle out of jail again.

But his luck wasn't getting any better. Merle had apparently spent the night in jail after punching a customer at the bar he was at for looking at him the wrong way.

And so, he found himself driving towards the county jail in his pick up truck. The air conditioner rattled as he sped through the streets headed towards his destination. If Daryl was granted one wish, he would definitely wish for a different brother. One who would spend his time making plans for his life rather than drinking away his wages as soon as he was handed them. One who would look after Daryl and make sure he was okay. He just wished for a brother who would think about other people before thinking of himself.

* * *

**Goodwill Elementary School**

Lori and Carl

Carl was angry. He was angrier than he had ever been in his whole young life. He was angry with school, angry with his home life and mostly angry at himself. He understood he was a child, just a little boy compared to the adults around him but he was more mature than they thought he was.

He was eleven. Young, yes. But he wasn't oblivious to the world or people around him. He knew when his parents argued, he knew when a huge fight between them was brewing and he sure as hell knew when to leave them to it. He hated the silence between them at the dinner table. Especially when both of them would not look at the other and when he tried to make the situation better by announcing what he had done that day at school, being ignored by the both of them.

Lori, his mother, watched him walk towards her after school. She had been talking to a friend of hers when she turned to see Carl whose whole demeanour had changed. Once he had reached her, he had continued on leaving her to watch in stunned silence as he walked away from her, as if ignoring her.

She glanced at her friend and pulled a face before apologising. She walked over to where Carl was, quickening her pace slightly to catch him up.

"Carl," Lori said. "Please come here."

"No."

"Carl. I'm your mother, respect my orders!"

Carl stopped abruptly. He was young, just her little boy but he was so trouble. He opened his mouth to speak. Lori waited.

Then they heard the sirens.

* * *

**Somewhere in Georgia**

_Carol and Sophia_

_Idiot. Ugly. Failure. Bitch. Whore._

The reflection of herself in the mirror made Carol Peletier shiver with disgust. She closed her eyes tightly telling herself that it was all a dream, that none of it happened but when she opened her eyes and saw the same reflection as she had done just a few moments ago, she felt bile rise up her throat and before she knew it, she was throwing up into the sink.

Her body was heavy. Every time she moved, convulsed or breathed, her body screamed in agony. She tried to hide the bruises as best as she could but there was no point. He would only add more when he came home from work.

She wiped her mouth and took a few deep breaths. She could do this. She could put a brave face on. She had become an expert at that. But…

She saw her reflection again. The bruises were worse than she thought. Her lip was bust. Her cheek most likely was broken. Her nose was swollen. This time, it was bad.

The door opened then, revealing a young girl of ten. Her eyes scanned over her mother and tears flooded her eyes, causing them to look glass-like.

"It's OK, Sophia," Carol whispered. "Mummy is fine. She just fell over."

But looking in Sophia's eyes, Carol knew the little girl knew she was lying. She had heard the rows, the cries of her mother when her father was beating her. She would block out the noise, creating a world where her mother and she were safe. A place where her father couldn't hurt her mother.

"Come here," Carol beckoned for Sophia to come towards her. The little girl was hesitant but walked quickly over to her. Carol wrapped her arms around her young daughter, and knew that this wasn't going to continue. She would fight for her child. "We're going away for a while, OK?"

"Where?" Sophia's little voice entered her ears.

"We're going on a little road trip," Carol spoke, her voice strong and undeterred. "I want you to pack some of your clothes, books and toys for me. I just need to do something."

Sophia nodded and exited the bathroom. Carol turned back to the sink. She opened the cabinet and found what she was looking for. The razor.

Once she was done and all her hair had fallen to the floor around her, Carol ran a hand across her hairless head. This was the start of her new life. One without Ed. The life Sophia should always have had. She was going to make it right.

Carol packed her and Sophia's belongings into the car, and got into the drivers seat. Taking a deep breath, she glanced over at Sophia.

"We're going to be OK, mummy. I just know it," said Sophia.

And taking in Sophia's words, Carol knew her daughter was right.

* * *

**Macon**

_Dale, Andrea and Amy_

Dale was getting too old for this. The long hours on the road had never agreed with him but his wife, Maud, had always felt right on the road. And the love he had for his wife was paramount. Forty years of marriage had taught him one thing; when you know someone for the majority of your life, you become the same person. What they like, you like. Even if you have to put up with it for a short time.

"Can you remember when we first bought this thing? It was brand new, and now look at it! But we've seen the world in this thing, haven't we, Maud? I've seen many things in this, with you by my side."

He glanced at the passenger seat, his heart aching slightly. The urn of his wife sat in the place she should have been. Tears sprung to his eyes and he coughed slightly, emotion stuck in his throat.

The passing of his beloved, Maud, had turned his world upside down. Cancer had taken his beautiful wife, leaving him with a world he wasn't sure of. The light in his life was gone, leaving a faded existence. He would wake to an empty house and spend the majority of the day trying to find something to do, something that would allow him to forget just for a moment that he was alone. Lost.

In the distance, something caught his eye. He squinted, trying to focus his blurring eyes. Age was not agreeing with him.

As he drove closer, he noticed a car on the side of the road and two women trying to work on it. He pulled over, and watched as the two women glanced over.

The older one made her way towards the RV, her hand outstretched to the young one who was on the phone.

"You two having trouble?" Dale asked.

"You bet," she said. "I'm Andrea."

"Dale," he replied. "Can I help?"

Andrea glanced at him, giving him the once over. Dale nodded and smirked.

"I'm not a murderer, or a serial killer."

Andrea narrowed her eyes at him. "We've got someone on the phone, but they can't come out until tomorrow morning which sucks."

"Where are you headed?"

"Atlanta. My sister, Amy, starts university there."

"A brain box, huh?"

"Something like that," Andrea replied.

"You got a place to stay? A motel or something?" Dale asked.

"We don't know the area. Or where we are. Or where to find a motel."

"Well, grab your things and I'll take you to a motel," Dale said, noticing the look of concern Andrea had on her face. "Honestly. Not a murderer."

It was then that Andrea noticed the urn on his passenger seat. Dale noticed her focus shift, and he averted his gaze to the urn.

"My wife. I'm giving her the send off she wanted."

Andrea nodded. "Only if you're sure?"

"I'm not going to leave two young women stranded on the side of the road waiting for help. My wife would kill me anyway if I did."

Andrea smiled, breaking the façade she had created. "OK. We'll get our things. We appreciate it, Dale."

Dale nodded, and watched as Andrea walked away from the RV. He glanced at the urn once more, and said: "You don't mind do you, Maud?"

He knew what he was doing was right. And with the two sisters sat in the RV, Dale pulled away and found comfort in the company. For the first time in a year, he didn't feel lonely.

The world as they knew it was no more. Their lives had changed forever as soon as the black trucks rumbled through the streets of every city and opened the back doors to reveal an infection that would change and destroy the majority of the world.

The dead had started walking, taking away and destroying everything that they had known. It was the fight of their lives, the main event of their story, and yet for them, it was a clean slate. A change in the wind. The fight for survival. Live or die, they were going to do their best to make sure they fought until they took their last breath.

* * *

_Authors note: Hi everyone! As you may have noticed, this is a complete rewrite of my former The Walking Dead fan fiction under the same name. For the past few months, I've been struggling with bad writers block and just couldn't seem to find the right words to continue with my other version of this. And so, I've basically given this fan fiction the chance to tell me what direction it wants to go and I'm very pleased with where it will be going!_

_To my past and present readers, thank you for taking your time to read this! It really means a lot, and I hope that you enjoy the new direction I'm taking it._

_I've decided that I won't be following each episode and will be introducing new characters and new scenes as I write. For those who have read the previous version of this, you will probably pick things out that are quite familiar and you'd be right. I'm keeping a few things in that I quite liked. Also, let me know what you enjoyed in the other version and I'll try to add those in, too._

_If you have any suggestions about where you would like this story to go and what happens to the characters, then please let me know! I'd love to know what you think so please review._


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors note: Thanks to **Mione788**, **Phoenyx634 **and **The Sword of Salvation**_ _for your lovely reviews. Here's the next chapter. All of you will recognise the characters in this chapter, and I really hope you like it. I have some exciting chapters ahead that I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

_"Is he going to wake up?"_

_"It's difficult to say at the moment. He could wake up now, tomorrow, next week… any time."_

_"If he wakes up at all."_

_"Yes, I guess so. That's a possibility too. He may never wake up. But we need to stay. It's too dangerous out there for us to leave. I have a feeling he'll wake up."_

_"How long are we going to stay around here? I mean… the supply run this morning… they were everywhere. I don't know what's bringing them back here."_

_"If we have to leave… without him, then we'll have no choice but to leave him here. If he does show some sign of waking up then we'll do what we can to prevent the numbers of the dead around here to give us some time."_

_"Would you actually leave without him?"_

_"His vitals when he arrived were good. He was responsive. He…"_

_"Answer my question."_

_"As his doctor, and seeing the improvements that he's made… I don't think I could."_

Rick Grimes woke and attempted to open his eyes. The sun was blearing through the window and his eyes, sensitive to the light, were clamped shut. It was painful to adjust to the brightness of the room and he lifted his arm to his face to escape the intrusive sunlight. As he did, he felt resistance in his hand.

He groaned, feeling the dryness of his mouth and manoeuvred his other hand to where he felt the pull in his hand. His fingers came into contact with small wires and a foreign contraption on his hand.

"Lori?" His voice was hoarse and croaky. It was painful to talk, even painful to breathe through his mouth and nose.

With his eyes shielded, he opened his eyes slowly. Was he hung over? He could not remember drinking the night before.

"Lori?" He called out again.

He slid up the bed and rested his head on the back of it, feeling his bones crack from lack of movement. He found himself being able to open his eyes properly. How long had he been here? "Lori?"

His hearing came back to him with a painful pop and it was then that he was able to hear.

Except he could not hear anything. Only silence filled his ears and he strained to hear the ticking of the clock, or Lori's laboured breathing. But he could not hear a thing. It was an eerie silence, one that made him feel uncomfortable.

He lifted his head, opening his eyes and took in his unfamiliar surroundings. The room was small and white - very white - and had a sickening bleach scent. He was in a hospital? But how? What had happened? He tried to remember, but all his memories were blurred, faded.

Pulling the oxygen tube from his nose and detaching himself from the wires that hooked him up to the machines he swung his legs over the bed slowly, feeling dizzy with the slight movement he had made. He tightened his grasp upon the thin mattress and pulled himself up. The strength in his legs had declined somewhat and he found himself crashing to the floor, knocking over the I.V. stand.

A sob escaped his mouth and he found himself curling his body into the fetal position, his head in his hands. Confusion seeped into his emotions and he found himself sobbing.

Though unaware of the door to the bathroom opening, Rick continued to express his emotions.

The young woman who appeared stared in disbelief at the man on the floor, and found that her heart was heavy with pride. He had woken…

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his pale and malnourished body. She had not noticed it before; being too busy ensuring that he was still breathing and getting better in terms of health.

"Woah, take it easy," The woman whispered, rushing to Rick's side. He was on the floor, his gown open revealing his pale and malnourished body. The large white bandage she had changed only hours earlier covered the majority of his abdomen. She attempted to pull him up from the ground herself but found that she was too weak to help him up.

As the weeks passed, food had become scarce. And so resulting in the lack of food, she found that she had become much more vulnerable.

A man and a young boy stepped into the room and rushed to their side. The man was naturally strong and within seconds, Rick was back on the bed.

The pain in his side was worse than it had been before he had fallen to the ground and he made sure that he did not show it. He was never one to express his emotions with people, especially with people he did not know. He glanced at the three people standing in front of him.

The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a growing beard. The woman was short, pale and looked tired. The boy was the spitting image of the man, and had longish hair that was outgrown. The trio all appeared to be exhausted, and their attire and skin were grubby.

"Who are you?" Rick asked wearily. He had no idea who they were, why they were in the room with him and why they were dirty.

The woman stepped forward, and took a deep breath. "My name is Olivia and I'm a doctor at this hospital. This is Morgan," she motioned to the man, then to the boy. "And this is Duane."

"You don't look like a doctor," Rick said, taking in her grubby exterior.

Olivia smirked. "I know. You've been out for a long time."

"What?"

"About a month ago, you came here after getting shot whilst on duty. Your vitals were good. You were responsive. We thought you would wake up but you didn't. Then everything changed," Olivia said.

"What do you mean by 'everything changed'?" Rick asked, confused.

Morgan began, "It was all of a sudden. Even we can't comprehend it and we've been conscious for most of the month. Around the same time as you came in, things changed. This isn't a joke, by the way. You're not on camera; this isn't going to air on a comedy channel. A virus, infection… we have no idea what it is, but it's basically wiped out the majority of the USA. We don't know if it's reached any other country, but we're on our own."

"What?" Rick asked again. This was all too much to take in. Only yesterday he was on duty… surely.

"I know it's not what you want to hear. Maybe it's not the right time to tell you but the world has ultimately ended," Morgan added.

"But why?" said Rick.

Olivia bit her lip. "We don't know. We went about our day and then the dead were everywhere. We hid, Duane, Morgan and I, in your hospital room. It was the only way we were able to survive."

"It started here. The military soon came in and wiped out everyone. Those who were bit, those who weren't. A lot of innocent people died. Just in case," Morgan added bitterly. "They couldn't take chances. We'd locked ourselves in here, darkened the room and waited."

"Waited for the sounds of the dead to stop. For the sounds of innocent people being killed. And then it was quiet," Olivia whispered.

Morgan ran a hand through his hair and over his face. He watched as Duane stood there with wide eyes. "Duane, why don't you go back to sleep, huh?"

The young boy nodded and made his way into the small room that had blankets covering the floor. He shut the door. Rick had seen the fear in the young boy's eyes, and it unnerved him. Children, no matter what, could never shake the fear from their eyes.

Morgan turned to Rick. "It's been hard, you know? We have no idea where to go. We were waiting for you to wake up. We needed to wait for you to wake up, if you woke up at all."

"Are there any other survivors?" Rick asked.

"You're taking this well," Morgan noted.

"Compared to the dreams that I've had… this is probably the sanest thing I've heard."

Olivia nodded. "We made sure that you were safe. That you had everything you needed."

"And I appreciate that," Rick said, gratefully. "So, are there any other survivors?"

Morgan and Olivia glanced at each other, and Rick instantly knew.

"We don't know. There must be," said Morgan. "If we're still alive then there must be other survivors out there."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

Morgan motioned for Rick to look out of the window. Rick stood slowly, summoning enough strength to be able to stand, and made his way over to the window. Cars, ambulances and _bodies _were scattered around the area. There was absolutely nothing moving in the streets below. The life that he had known before he fell asleep for weeks was gone.

This was all too much for him to take in, and he let himself slide to the floor. Olivia rushed to his side.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I really am," Olivia whispered. Rick nodded, grateful for her words.

Olivia left him then, and Morgan helped him back onto the bed. Olivia came back and handed him a bottle of water. It was warm in his hand but he opened the bottle, nonetheless, and took large gulps. His throat relished in the wetness and even though he wished it was cooler than it was, he was grateful.

"How old is your boy?" Rick motioned over to the door. Morgan glanced in the same direction.

"He's 12."

Rick nodded. Olivia went over to the glass window that stared out into the corridor, flicked the blinds and glanced around the small area that she could see. The area was empty again after the minor group of the dead shuffled along the corridors in the early hours of the morning.

"I have a son," whispered Rick.

Morgan looked at him then, and saw the pain in the man's eyes.

"I'd like to say that I have, but I just don't know," Rick whispered, his voice cracking. He hoped, even prayed, for the safety of his family. As long as they were safe, that meant the world to him. He would find them, no matter what.

"How old?" Morgan asked, intrigued.

"Eleven," Rick said. "I have a picture somewhere."

He looked around the room in hope of finding his belongings, but there were nowhere in sight.

"Do you know where my clothes are?" Rick asked. Morgan made his way over to the room that Duane had gone in, slowly and quietly opened the door, and disappeared for a moment.

Olivia sat down in the chair next to the bed, and closed her eyes. Morgan appeared, carrying a bundle of clothing.

"We kept it safe for you, just in case you woke up and we weren't here," Olivia said, opening her eyes and yawning. "We mended your shirt."

Rick mumbled his thanks to the both of them, and quickly scanned through his belongings for the picture. It had to be here. It had to be. His fingers came into contact with a thin piece of paper and he relaxed slightly. He pulled it out of the pocket on his shirt and stared at the faces that looked back at him, frozen in time. They looked happy. All the worries they had faced on the day of the photo had disappeared for the split second of that photo being taken, and he felt a lump form in his throat.

Two years ago the photo had been taken. Carl was a lot younger and Lori… was as beautiful as ever. They had troubles, just like any other couple in the world, but they always made it through. They always moved on, never allowing the argument between them roll into the next day.

Were they dead? The question burned his mind like a fire ball, and he cursed himself for even thinking of it. They had to be. Lori, as a mother, would have done anything and everything for Carl, even if it meant leaving Rick behind. Carl was their main priority, and Lori would have done what was best for all three of them by getting away from the horror on the streets.

"That's him," Rick croaked, showing the photo to the two people. "That's Carl."

Olivia smiled at the photo. She had seen it before when she had sewn the shirt back together. She had spent a few moments looking at the family within the photograph and thought about what the three of them were like as people. She had wished that they were safe out there, wherever they were.

"He looks like you," Olivia mused. "Your wife is pretty."

Rick smiled and nodded. "She is."

And at that moment, the three of them went into their own world of what if.

* * *

A few hours later saw the group settling down to sleep. Morgan and Duane had gone to bed in the next room shortly after dinner of noodles was served, leaving Rick and Olivia to ponder over their thoughts in the fading daylight outside. The day had been pretty uneventful, with Rick trying to digest everything that he was exposed to and the others trying to pinpoint the safest areas they could visit once Rick was steady on his feet. Duane had woken from his nap an hour after Rick had woken up, and Olivia had attended to Rick's wounds.

Olivia had taken residence on the chair beside the bed. Rick felt guilty for hanging onto the bed but whenever he tried to make Olivia take it, the woman simply refused.

"How did you and Morgan meet?" Rick said, his eyes half open.

"We both worked here. He was a porter and I was a doctor. I knew his wife. We were good friends."

"She died?"

Olivia nodded. "She became infected. We had all been holed up here and the two of them, Morgan and Jenny, went on a supply run. Only Morgan came back."

Rick closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Olivia bit her lip. "It's the way the world is. People live. People die."

"Did you have family here? Before the outbreak, I mean?" Rick questioned.

"A boyfriend. Nick." Olivia said, abruptly.

"Any parents?"

Olivia stared off into the distance and shook her head. "They both died before the outbreak, which I'm thankful for."

Silence overwhelmed them for a few moments. The silence was comfortable for the both of them.

"So, what happens then? With the infection?" Rick asked.

"We're not entirely sure. Someone gets bit. They experience a fever, almost like the flu. Then they succumb to it. And they turn," Olivia said. "We don't know though. We've mostly been inside."

"Thanks, again, for taking care of me. For believing that I'd wake up," said Rick.

Olivia smiled. "It was my duty to."

"Not many people would have done that though. They would have left."

"Like I said, Rick, it was my duty."

"What about your boyfriend? Did you ever look for him?"

He had noticed how short she was when talking about her boyfriend, at how quick she ended the subject. He wanted to press further, but thought better of it. He was intrigued though, he was a sheriff after all. It came with the job.

"Honest answer?" Olivia asked, furrowing her brows.

Rick nodded in response.

Olivia stared at him, taking in his haggard appearance. She noticed the way his eyes stared back intensely. She knew at that instance that he was summing her up, like she was with him.

"No," Olivia began. "I didn't look for him. Not because I was scared of what I might find. But because, truthfully, I didn't want to. We weren't on the best of terms when the world ended."

"But you still call him your boyfriend. Surely, you would have wanted to have a clean slate?"

Olivia raised her eyebrow. "I still call him my boyfriend because he's the only person that I had in the old world. It gives me comfort knowing that I had him to rely on. But now, not knowing whether he's alive, dead or walking around aimlessly looking for human flesh to feed on, I still feel the need to call him that. He was a part of my life. Of my old life."

And with that, Olivia pulled the blanket over her and settled down for a restless sleep. And Rick, staring at the young woman, could not help but wonder if there was more to her story.

* * *

_Authors note: There we have it! How did you find this chapter? I wanted to shake things up a bit and this was the result I got. As stated before in the above Authors note, the next few chapters will be exciting. And I've taken the advice of **Phoenyx634**_ _and will be delving into how the group all came together._

_Please read and review! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Authors note: Thank you to __**Mione788**__ and __**CuteSango07 **__for your lovely reviews. Here is the next chapter! This is quite a long chapter and did think about splitting it into two but I just couldn't resist!_

* * *

The next morning, bright and early, witnessed Rick taking a few steady steps around the room with the assistance of Olivia and the I.V. stand. He was becoming much more confident in his movements, and he was showing improvements in every sense. Olivia was happy with how he was coping with the whole situation regarding the end of the world as they knew it as well as his walking and the way his wound was healing. Even though his wound was still sore to touch, it did not prevent Rick from striving to be active again. But with the great improvements Rick was already showing, came the exhaustion. Olivia had quickly reassured him that it was normal for him to feel tired and a little out of it. With food scarce, the energy needed for Rick to continue moving around quickly dissipated.

"We need to make sure that you're able to get out of here for when the time comes for it," Olivia said, checking his wound. "If we have you move around little and often, then you'll be walking unaided before you know it."

As soon as the sun descended over the horizon and engulfed Atlanta with a golden haze, Morgan had quickly dressed and left to scope out the surrounding area for a suitable vehicle with enough gas to transport the small group from the hospital grounds to the surrounding area of Georgia in the hope of finding survivors. Rick was eager to look for his family.

The small group was all eager to leave the hospital, but for all of them, the anticipation and fear of leaving a relatively safe area was paramount. They were all nervous knowing that the world outside of the hospital room was waiting for them. The fear of the unknown, of a world that was not built for them, was seeping into their hearts. Was it the right thing to do, when they had medical supplies all around them? Were they ready to leave?

Even though they had only one weapon, they had it good here. The military, when the dead started rising, had taken care of most of the dead for the small group by locking them in rooms and killing those who were threats. The stray walkers that they would see walking down the corridors were probably off the streets or had been in different areas of the hospital. They never stayed long, always having their attention refocus at the other sounds of the dead who also made their way around the building.

Duane, left in the safety of Olivia and Rick, was sat in the corner of the room, picking the skin around his thumbs. Whenever his father left before on supply runs, the fear of losing his father was the only thing he could think of. He had lost his mother in circumstances that he was not aware of, and was never told what exactly happened on the day his father had arrived back at the hospital without his mom. He had seen the look his father had given Olivia, and the pain in the woman's face, but he did not understand. Was she dead? Or was she walking around aimlessly like one of those that he saw in his dreams?

He wanted so much to ask Olivia or his father about the fate of his mother, but he was scared. In his heart, deep down, he knew his mom was gone. That she was never coming back and it pained him to think that he would never be able to hold his mother when he had a nightmare like she had done for the majority of his life in this world.

The only thing the remaining members of the group could do was sit and wait for the return of Morgan. Olivia had joined Duane on the floor, silently hoping that her presence was enough to reassure the young boy that his father would return safely and quickly.

Morgan was the strongest man she had ever met. Even before the whole world turned its back on them. She had known him for roughly four years before the dead started walking, as Jenny had been her friend and colleague for the majority of that. The couple had faced both highs and lows since meeting Olivia, with Jenny facing the onslaught of cancer shortly before Duane's nineth birthday. She had fought tooth and nail to ensure that she was around for the rest of his life, and her strength showed as two years after being given the diagnosis, and a few days before Duane's eleventh birthday, she was given the all clear.

Rick stood slowly and made his way to the window, looking out at the empty streets below him. He needed to find his wife and son, even if it was the last thing he did. Just to know that both of them were safe would allow him to die happy.

A few hours passed slowly and Morgan was still not back. There was only so much reassurance Duane could be told before the young boy shut down and just stared at the door, willing his father to knock on the door and the spare key in the lock to notify his arrival.

As the rumbles of their stomachs filled their ears, Olivia searched through their supply bag and handed each of them a granola bar. Rick and Duane were grateful.

"You know," Rick started, taking a bite out of the granola bar. "Whenever I went out on duty, Carl, my son, would always say a prayer for my safe arrival back. It would scare him knowing that I was out there confronting bad guys and locking them up. But the prayer always made him believe, if not protect me, from danger. We could say a prayer for your father, if you'd like?"

Olivia smiled, grateful for Rick's wise words. She watched the young boy nod, tears filling his eyes.

"Maybe if we all say something?" Rick added. Olivia nodded, joining hands with the two of them.

"Do you want to go first, Duane?" Olivia asked, to which the young boy nodded.

Duane took a deep breath, before speaking. "I really wish that my dad is safe and that he's okay out there. And I really wish that he'll come back soon."

"I don't know Morgan as well as the both of you, but he seems like a very strong and determined man. He's probably found some food and is bringing it back for us. Or maybe he's found something nice for you, Duane," Rick said, thinking about his own son. "Whatever he's doing, wherever he is, I'm sure that he's safe and on his way back here."

Olivia squeezed Duane's hand. "Your father is a strong man, and the type of father that I wish I had. His love for you will prevail, and he'll be back before you know it."

Dinner consisted of canned soup and the three of them ate in silence. Olivia would often glance towards Rick, and the sheriff would meet her gaze. Both of them were worried. But neither one of them wanted to say anything just in case it provoked even more fear into the heart of Duane.

As evening descended over Atlanta, and Morgan had still not arrived back, Rick instructed for Duane to get an early night's sleep, taking his bed. The floor, even though it was covered with numerous sheets and blankets, must not have been comfy.

With the young boy sleeping, Rick pulled Olivia over towards the window so they could watch the street before night crept over them. There was still no sign of Morgan, which caused concern to creep into Olivia's heart.

"I should tell you something," Olivia whispered, glancing over at Duane sleeping.

Rick narrowed his gaze on the young woman, taking in the dark circles around her eyes. "What?"

"Morgan has gone off before. He went on a supply run, and didn't come back until four days later. He came back with nothing, no supplies whatsoever. Told me he'd gotten sidetracked, that he had seen Jenny," Olivia whispered, taking a deep breath. "I didn't know what to do. Or what to say to Duane. The thing is… I know Morgan. The death of Jenny shook him up, turned his whole world upside down. I've never seen him like that before. It scared me. I know that the death of a loved one can do things to people but we didn't know if he was dead, or had got bitten. He came back with blood on his clothing."

"He'd killed walkers?" Rick asked.

"Yes. He'd seen red, apparently, and that was it. He snapped," Olivia said. "I'm scared for Duane, and for Morgan's sanity."

Rick nodded, taking in everything that Olivia said. "I'll talk to him."

"What if he's snapped again, and this time it's bad?" Olivia asked, nervously.

Rick gently laid his hands upon her shoulders and looked her in the eye. He moved closer to her, so that only she could hear what he had to say. He whispered, huskily. "One less walker is better for the world. Morgan doesn't seem the type of man who will just give up. Duane means the world to him; you can see that clear as day. He won't do anything to jeopardise that."

Olivia nodded, but couldn't help but glance at the vulnerable boy sleeping in the bed. She just wished that Morgan, wherever he was, was safe.

* * *

Morgan had seen her again. She had been right there in front of him, staring at him with a smile - the smile he had fallen in love with - etched across her face. She was wearing her wedding dress, the one she had married him in.

She looked beautiful, radiant. She was stroking the bump that had formed on her abdomen that had held and gave life to Duane twelve years before.

He knew she was not there, that she was not standing in front of him in the same position she had been in the photograph he had cherished and that had been on their mantelpiece for many years.

He had squeezed his eyes shut numerous times in hope that what he was seeing would fade away. But she remained there, her eyes focusing on him.

She was talking to him. And all he could do was sob. The tears he stopped from falling many times before seemed to flow and this time, he did not stop them.

"She's not there… not there," Morgan whispered to himself, emotion coating his voice. "She's not there… She's gone."

No matter how many times he told himself that she was not there, that it was just a figment of his imagination, she became clearer as if trying to prove him wrong.

"You're not real!" He shouted. "You died! You're not real!"

But she never reacted to his words. She just stayed there, watching him with such love that he just wanted to open the door, get out and wrap his arms around her.

"I watched you die," he whispered, sadly. "I watched you die, Jenny. You're not real."

And with that, he started the car. The sound of the engine caught the attention of a few walkers but he knew they were not a threat. He had promised Duane he would be back before night fall. And he had not kept that promise.

* * *

Olivia awoke with a start, fear creeping into her heart. She had always been a nervous child, always having to prepare herself for certain situations. Growing up with a younger sister - twelve years her junior - had not stopped the worry and protectiveness she had for Hannah fade away. Hannah had been born premature and had a small chance of survival, which seemed to snowball Olivia's protectiveness over her sister to become a lot more intense than she had thought. When Hannah started to get stronger and healthier, Olivia had made a promise to Hannah to always protect her through no matter what.

And she had failed.

One simple thing and she had let her down.

Tears filled her eyes, and a small sob escaped her. She glanced around at the two sleeping figures and was thankful that they had not heard her. She noticed that Morgan had still not arrived back, and her heart fell. She had tried to stay awake as long as possible for when he came back but tiredness had overwhelmed her and she had soon found herself falling asleep.

Her sleep had been disturbed by nightmares that had knocked down her barriers, causing them to break into a million pieces. The rawness of the whole situation was horrible. Morgan had to come back, in more ways than one. For Duane and for himself. He had lost himself and now he had to find himself. When that time came was not something that Olivia could predict. But she wished that she could make it easier for the both of them.

After tossing and turning for most of the night, Olivia had fallen into a light sleep. But as quick as it had come, it was gone and she was awake once more.

She slipped out of the heavy blankets and tiptoed quietly over to the window. Taking deep breaths, she glanced out at the surroundings. It was early in the morning with the first hint of daylight appearing in the distance, the pink sky seeping across the sky like watery paint upon a canvas.

Yawning, she scoped the area, and furrowed her brow.

There was a black vehicle parked in the parking lot that had not been there before. She picked up the binoculars that were situated upon the window sill, and looked out.

There, sitting in the driver's seat, was Morgan.

She quickly woke Rick, who slept only yards away on the opposite side of the room, by nudging him, bending down to his seated height.

"Morgan's back," Olivia whispered. "He's in the parking lot."

Rick stood, taking the binoculars from Olivia and glanced out. She was right. He looked closely at the man, and noticed that he was sat motionless, his eyes staring out at the desolate area. He furrowed his brow but said nothing.

"I need to go down, see if he's OK…" said Olivia.

"Are you sure?" Rick asked, quietly. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"I've been outside before. That was with Morgan."

"I wouldn't feel happy with myself if I let you out there, and something happened to you," Rick stated. "I'll go."

"What? No way! You've only just gotten back on your feet, there's no way I'm letting you out there!" Olivia exclaimed.

Morgan had done most of the supply runs, if not all of them. She had accompanied him on some of them, getting the general overview of what the new world was like. It was quieter and more serene than she could ever imagine. Despite the paranoia she felt as she had glanced around at the surrounding area, with the threat of walkers paramount. It was the only thing she could think of as she watched the area for walkers whilst Morgan looted various places near the hospital. They made sure that they stayed within walking and running distance of the hospital for Duane's sake, but before they knew it, most of the stores were nearly out of stock as the weeks passed.

When the dead had started walking thus turning the world as they had known it into a game of survival, Morgan and Olivia had set rules regarding food. In order to save food, the three of them would only be able to have one meal a day. Duane would always have a little more than the other two as he was younger and needed the energy. They stocked up on cans of food including soups, beans and rice pudding. Snack bars, including granola bars, were stocked up on too.

On the numerous supply runs they made, the trio had stocked up on quite a lot of tinned foods that could be preserved and would not go out of their sell by dates for a good few months, if not a year.

Olivia had admired Morgan's determination to get enough food to see them out for a few months. He always made sure that they ate at least once a day, and also ensured that neither of them went to bed hungry. But both of them knew as the months passed, food would become a lot scarcer than it was now.

Rick glanced through the binoculars once more, and noticed that Morgan remained in the same position as he had been.

"OK…" Rick ran a hand through his hair. He moved towards the pile of his belongings, retrieved something and made his way back to Olivia. "Take this. Know how to use one?"

Olivia glanced at the gun in her hand. It was heavy, bulky. The weapon felt foreign in her hand. She shook her head.

"OK…" Rick took a deep breath. He did not like this one bit. "All you have to remember is, aim and shoot. But only when you need to."

"OK," Olivia whispered, inaudible. She repeated. "Aim and shoot."

"That's right. You know this hospital like the back of your hand, right?" Rick asked, to which Olivia nodded. "Get out of here as quietly as you can, get to Morgan, bring him back. If you're not back within ten minutes, I'm coming after you. Got that?"

* * *

The cool air was a shock to her system as she made her way out of the main entrance of the hospital. Once she had left Rick and Duane safe in the hospital room, the journey downstairs was relatively quiet. The passing walkers from the previous few days seemed to have disappeared into thin air, as if they had never been there in the first place, like a figment of her imagination. Her hand that was holding the gun never stopped shaking. She contemplated whether it was safe to put it in her back pocket so that she had both hands instead of one to get out of the building, but thought against it as she knew that if and when the time came for her to get the gun out, she would fumble about and it may be too late.

Despite the lack of walkers around the area, she still walked as quietly as she could towards the vehicle. Her chest rattled with panic, like the tail of a rattlesnake banging against her chest. She took deep breaths, in hope that it would stem the fear but no matter what, her body still shook violently.

She stole a glance towards the window, noticing that Rick was stood there watching her every move. He motioned to her that she was safe to go forward and she nodded. Her legs were heavy but she forced herself over to where the vehicle was parked. It felt like an hour had passed before she found herself at the window of the driver's side.

Her hand gently tapped the cold window and she watched as Morgan flinched and went to grab his gun. His eyes met hers and a look of shock and realization etched across his face.

She moved around the car to the passenger's side, opened the door and slipped in. Before she closed the door, she heard the fear in Morgan's voice.

"I saw her again."

Olivia took a deep breath. "Where?"

"Everywhere."

Olivia looked closely at the man, noticing how tired he looked. She could only guess that he had not slept the entire night. How long had he been sat in the car for? When had he come back? The last time she looked out of the window before trying to get some sleep was about two in the morning.

"But where you're sat now," added Morgan, voice shaking.

"It's normal, when in a state of grief, to see those who've passed. There's nothing wrong with you. I see my parents, and my sister. More so now than before."

Morgan shook his head, not quite believing. "But why? I saw her die. I watched as the walker took a bite out of her. How the fever took its toll on her body, and her taking her last breath. Then I saw her become one of them. My beautiful Jenny. Isn't that enough?"

Olivia reached her hand over to grasp his. Tears filled her eyes, and a thump had formed in her throat. Morgan had never spoken about it before. She spoke quietly. "The mind does wonderful things sometimes. It's called a coping mechanism. Your body is trying to let you cope with her death. It may feel like you're going crazy, seeing Jenny, but all it is, is your body trying to cope. It might not feel normal, that you feel like you're living in a dream world but it is. Some people can feel their loved ones, some people can see them, smell them even and some people never get the chance to have any of that. Don't beat yourself up about it. Allow yourself to mourn. Think about your boy… because he needs you."

Morgan knew she was right. He had not allowed himself to mourn. In his eyes, it was a sign of weakness. His boy could never see him cry. If Duane saw him crying, it would not be reassuring to the young boy. He needed to be strong but it was so hard to keep up the façade.

And that was when he allowed all the emotion he had been holding back to pour out. Sobs escaped his throat and tears flowed down his cheeks, pooling together on his bare arms.

Minutes passed and his sobs subsided. He felt better. Olivia had remained with her hand in his, allowing him to just get everything out.

"Better?" Olivia asked.

Morgan nodded, wiping his face. He had never been one to cry but it felt good to let it all out.

And that's when he caught movement behind him in the rear view mirror. His eyes focused and a gasp escaped him. Olivia looked in his direction, and saw the movement herself.

_Shit._

* * *

He had lost sight of Olivia as soon as she had entered the car. The sun had obscured his view, with the light bouncing off the hospital windows and reflecting back onto the majority of the vehicles windows.

The boy stirred and opened his eyes. He scanned the room, confusion etching across his face as he noticed his father as well as Olivia was not there. Rick noticed the look and offered a reassuring smile.

"They're both outside. Your dad's come back with a vehicle for us."

The delight in the boy's face was enough to warm Rick's heart. The boy leant back on the bed with a smile upon his face.

Rick brought the binoculars back up to his face. The sun had passed and he was able to see the vehicle clearly. But what he saw was not what he could have imagined. It was the first time he had seen them.

There were walkers everywhere.

* * *

_Authors note: And there we have it - the first cliff hanger! So, what do you think the outcome could be? As I have quite a lot of free time on my hands at the moment, I will be updating as soon as I have a chapter written and edited. I really like the direction of where this is going. At the minute, this story seems to have a life of its own and is writing itself! _

_I have a few questions for you… What would you like to see happen as the story progresses? I'm trying to stray away from the TV storyline as much as I can, as we all know what's been happening, but what situations would you like see happen? What scenes of the TV series or comic would you like to see or be mentioned in this, if any? _

_Thanks for reading! Please review. I would love to hear your views!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors note: I apologise for the long delay, reality got in the way. Here is the next instalment Hope you enjoy! All reviews are welcome and appreciated, and allow me to upload new chapters at a quicker speed than normal!_

* * *

When the dead started rising, Daryl Dixon had made a promise to himself. A promise that he was going make sure he kept until his dying day.

The day the world went down the pan was the day he realised that his life was going nowhere. Whilst he was living vicariously through his brother, he realised that he was living a simple and quiet life whilst picking up the pieces of the hurricane that Merle left behind. Every day was the same: he woke up, went to work, came home and would sleep before doing it all over again. Merle, however, had a non-repetitive schedule. Merle could do what he wanted, when he wanted without a thought to those around him. The consequences of Merle's actions had made Daryl want to lead a better life. Though the jobs he wanted to do was limited due to Merle's actions, he made sure he put everything into them, trying to erase the image his neighbors and bosses created of him.

He was able to spend a few months in a job before Merle got into trouble again, which meant that Daryl's life would have to go on hold whilst he worked to get enough money accumulated for his brothers bail. Jobs soon became scarce, causing Daryl to look at the bigger picture.

Merle was blood. His older brother who, growing up, he looked up to. In his young eyes, Merle could do no wrong. But as he reached adolescence and became aware of everything around him, Daryl realised that the strain of Merle being in trouble with the police had reached its peak. Their father was the same, always being in trouble with the police and liking a drink more than some. The look of guilt and disappointment in his mom's eyes whenever he spoke about Merle was evident. She blamed herself for the way her son turned out, but Daryl knew that it was not her fault. Merle was definitely his father's son. Trouble ran through his veins and it would always do so.

Daryl had always been the quiet one in his family. His mother - his sweet mom - was the love of his life. Growing up, Daryl was a small child. Weedy, Merle had called him. He only started growing when he was in his late teens, by which time Merle had been the size of a horse thanks to the boxing he did. Through school, Daryl was bullied for his lack of height and his scrawny appearance. His mom always made sure that he knew his time would come for when he would become taller and stronger than them all.

His father was the type of man you did not cross unless you had a death warrant. He was ex-army, and because of that, he was very strict. When his children or wife stepped out of line, they faced the brunt of his anger. Merle idolized his father, no matter how many times he beat him. Daryl, being a lot younger than Merle, was petrified of his father which only fuelled his father's anger even more. And as the years went by and both brothers grew into men, the beatings stopped for Merle. He was twice the size of his father, and a lot taller than him too.

Merle's admiration for his father ended the day Merle found his father beating his mom senseless and the respect he had had for the man who he called dad was gone, dissipated. Merle, after many years of being beaten, took a stand and fought back. From then on, their dad never laid a finger on his mom, Daryl or himself.

The last thing Daryl and Merle heard, he was doing time in jail for beating a man to death.

Years later, when Merle was sent to jail for six months for the umpteenth time after getting into a bar fight with a group of men, Daryl was the main earner within the Dixon household. It was just his mom and himself at home, and he enjoyed that. The loss of his mom hit him hard, and he felt as though his whole life was shattering around him. His life had become steady again, and his mom's death made him realise that he had to stick up for himself because without her around, nobody was going to do it.

The sound of a vehicle approaching caught the brothers off guard. Merle motioned for Daryl to hide in the bushes, whilst Merle stayed where he was for a moment trying to decipher the type of vehicle and the direction it was coming in.

Daryl watched his brother stare out at the road for a few seconds before he turned around nodded to their left and slipped into the same bush as Daryl. The vehicle was getting closer.

"Sounds like a big vehicle…" Merle grunted. "We'll have to wait until they drive by. Don't know how many people are in there."

Daryl nodded, keeping his crossbow poised in defense. He knew, especially in the last few weeks, that keeping a weapon close to him was essential. They had come across a few groups whilst traipsing through the woods and both of them knew that if they let their guard down then they would ultimately be killed.

It was a fight for survival now. The world as they knew it was longer the one they lived in. People were being killed for food, supplies and vehicles. They saw people lose their minds, killing everyone in sight. And at that moment they both realised that they had to stick together in order to find some normality.

The vehicle pulled in front of them, the bushes slightly obscuring their view of the vehicle, and a loud bang sounded in their ears. They glanced to one another and narrowed their eyes at the vehicle. It was an old, battered and worn out RV.

The sound of voices caught their attention. From where they stood, Daryl could make out three voices: a man and two women.

"The engine's blown," the man said, tiredly.

"Again?" One of the women said. "This is the third time it's happened!"

"It's an old vehicle. I've had it for years, decades even."

"Maybe we should look for a new vehicle. One that doesn't break down every five minutes?" The same woman said, with a hint of sarcasm coating her voice.

"No. There's no way I'm leaving it. It's the only thing I have," the man said.

"Okay… we'll look for an engine."

Silence enveloped them and Merle tipped his head to the wood, stepping away from their previous position. His footing was quiet, experienced, and Daryl acknowledged his actions and followed after him, his own footing experienced.

Merle's voice was husky as he spoke, his breath warm. "They could have food. Water. We haven't eaten in days little brother; this could be our winning hand."

Daryl glanced back at the vehicle before whispering, hoping that his brother meant something else. "What?"

"Let's rob them."

"You are joking, aren't you?" Daryl said, unbelieving. "Seriously?"

"I'm serious, little brother. You said it yourself, we need water. We could help them, build a good rapport with them, then when they least expect it, we rob them. We help with the RV, the RV will be ours!"

"I thought you were done with all that?"

"I'm trying to help us! The guy is old. The women won't put up a fight. They'll want to protect the old man. They'll do what we say," Merle explained. "We could have wheels, a safe place to sleep, food in our bellies. I'm trying to help you, little brother."

"Well, I don't want your help. Merle… you have to understand. The world has changed. It's no longer the world where you can do what the hell you want. He's an old man. They're women. Are you seriously going to harm them?"

"Woah, never said anything about harming them," Merle said. "Lighten up."

"Don't tell me what to do, Merle. We're not going to hurt them, or take their vehicle from them."

But before Daryl could comprehend the situation, Merle had made his way through the bush. Daryl's eyes widened as he heard his brother acknowledge the other survivors, telling them to calm down, that he heard the engine blow out.

"Me and my brother, we've been walking through the woods for days. You're the first group of people we've seen," Merle said, his eyes not meeting the three individuals. His eyes scoped the area, taking in the broken down RV and the small amount of supplies in the windows of the RV.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at his brother through the large covering of leaves. He and Merle had stumbled across a few groups along the way since the outbreak occurred.

They had spent a few days here and there with them, but always leaving in the middle of the night when the majority of the group were sleeping. Daryl was unsettled around them, always keeping a wary eye on the few members of the group whose behaviour did not seem to add up. The group would always beg for them to stay, as they were experienced in the woods and knew them like the back of their hand. Daryl found that when people are so desperate, they will do everything in their power to cling on to the last bit of hope they had, but he knew that when that indeed happened, they would eventually become mad and lose their mind.

Daryl crept out of the bush as quietly as he could, so that he did not frighten the small group. They watched him with narrowed eyes, and he did the same. They were not a threat to either him or his brother, but Merle was adamant that they do something about it.

He caught his older brother circling the RV, his eyes observing the belongings of the group stacked up inside the vehicle, as if they were treasure.

"You got a lot of stuff here," Merle observed. "Look, Daryl."

Dale nodded, keeping silent. He looked over to Daryl who was watching his brother.

"Come on, Merle. Let's go."

"Chill, little brother."

Daryl bit his lip, trying to keep calm. The one thing Daryl hated was being undermined by people, especially his brother. Merle was arrogant, obnoxious and insufferable. He loved him, that was evident, but he sometimes wished Merle would wake up one day and see the world he, himself, saw it. Daryl's view of the world was different to the creation in which Merle had generated. To Merle, this world was a walk in the park. Got rid of the weak, kept the strong alive. Kept the ones who could hack it survive. There was no way he was going to die at the hands of the dead. To Merle, he had survived worse in jail.

Daryl stepped closer to the RV, hating the way the three other survivors were staring at him. Whilst the women watched Daryl, Dale kept his eye on Merle. Daryl glanced into the window of the RV, and his face dropped.

Dale was unsure about the likes of Merle. Daryl, on the other hand, seemed like a loyal character. He quickly acknowledged that Merle was the force behind the operation, his brother, however, watched on. He was quiet, Dale understood.

"Merle," Daryl started, and Dale wished that he would stick up for them. Dale knew what Merle was going to do. He knew as soon as the big man walked out from behind the bush that he was going to rob them and ultimately leave them with nothing but the clothes on their back, if they were lucky. "Let's just help them, and get out of here. It'll be night soon."

"But I'm having fun, little brother."

Merle walked around the other side of the RV, in the direction of the group. He glanced at the women, a small smirk on his face, and allowed his eyes to travel over the frames of the two blonde women.

Daryl huffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not. So, come on."

Daryl watched through narrowed eyes as his brother stepped closer to the two women. Merle loved blondes. Always had done, always will. The end of the world was happening and he would give everything up for a blonde. He would even sell his own brother if it meant one more night with a blonde woman. Daryl marched over to where his brother stood eyeing up the women and stepped in front of the terrified group.

In a hushed tone, he said. "You leave them alone. Got that?"

Shouldering his crossbow, Daryl pushed his brother away from them with two strong hands. Merle bit his lip, narrowed his gaze, and spat on the ground. He held his hands up in mock surrender, and winked in the direction of Andrea.

Daryl held his hand up to the trio behind him and walked Merle over to the window where he had stood just a few moments ago. "Look in the window."

Merle glared at Daryl before redirecting his gaze to the window in question. There, sitting in the dashboard, was an urn.

"We're not 'robbing' them, Merle. They've lost everything, just like we have. So shut up, 'cause we're going to help them. That alright with you?" Daryl asked, but before Merle could answer, he continued. "Good."

He watched as Merle had trouble dealing with him standing up to him but he never relented. Merle had to learn a lesson, just like everyone else did with the world going down the pan. Dale turned around, met his gaze and gave him a small nod. He narrowed his gaze, bit his lip and nodded back. Merle saw the small exchange and shook his head.

Daryl knew that he had to think for himself now. Despite being and travelling with Merle, he had to prepare himself for the day when his brother either died or deserted him. He knew he would be able to handle himself if his brother did decide to up and leave without telling him, as he had enough training whilst growing up. Merle became bored very quickly and the end of the world was not going to stop him from leaving again, in fact, Daryl acknowledged, it made it easier for him. There was not anything that would make Merle come back. As long as he knew Daryl could keep himself safe and he could survive on his own, then Merle could ride off into the sunset and cause chaos elsewhere.

Daryl thought back to the promise he had made at the start of the apocalypse. He smiled.

The promise he made himself was to finally start living.


End file.
